Victim of format,
prisoner of rhyme
Inmate of vision
—exile sublime
(Monmartre France: April, 1978)
Final thoughts.
Oh mighty sun you rise once more,
Bringing forth a brand new day.
A shimmering causeway of golden ray’s,
To another world now seems not far away.
My bones grow weary for on the beach I sit,
Before an out stretched sea.
Caporal thoughts of the conscious mind,
Start to fade now on the breeze.
Lift me like the seagull soars,
For now ecstasy consumes the soul.
Just the calling waves now answer,
For here will I make my home?
All earthly bonds and shackle,
The rat race now has been run.
Now in the bosom of sweet nature,
For with you Im now at one.
© N Windle 2009
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